Fifty Galleons Worth
by Alexandri
Summary: Pansy buys Ernie at a bachelor auction. Originally written in 2006.


**Title:** Fifty Galleons Worth  
**Author:** Alexandri  
**Pairing: **Ernie/Pansy  
**Disclaimer:** Characters are JKR's; plot (such as it is) is mine.  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** Pansy buys Ernie at a bachelor auction.  
**A/N:** Birthday fic originally written in 2006.

"Our last bachelor this morning is our very own Head Boy, the Pride of Hufflepuff House, Ernest Macmillan!"

Ernie flushed at Headmistress McGonagall's introduction and suppressed a wince as he rose from his seat and climbed the dais upon which the Head Table stood. There had once been a time when he'd longed to be the "Pride of Hufflepuff House." Of course, that was before the last "Pride of Hufflepuff" had been senselessly murdered by a megalomaniac and the painful though mercifully brief war with said megalomaniac had taught Ernie that there were greater things than pride and glory.

Still he flashed the full Great Hall (a rarity for a Saturday morning) with his best, friendliest smile. After all, just because he'd been in a funk lately was no excuse for shirking his duty. As Head Boy, it was only appropriate that he participate in Hogwarts' First Annual Charity Valentine's Day Bachelor Auction.

"Let's start the bidding at one galleon," continued McGonagall.

A young, haughty-looking Ravenclaw girl (she couldn't have been more than a fourth year) bid one galleon and the bids went from there. The entire endeavor swirled around him, his smile fading from genuine to plastered on through force of habit. Only the knowledge that all of this was for charity permeated Ernie's increasing sense of detachment.

A bid of five galleons, thirteen sickles and twelve knuts from Millicent Bulstrode, however, quickly killed Ernie's indifference. The girl in question wasn't even looking at him. No, she was smirking at Pansy Parkinson, the last person he wanted to think about, let alone look at. Even though he could only see the back of her head, Ernie could tell that the raven-haired witch was glaring at her treacherous friend.

The funk he'd been suppressing pooled in his gut and he turned subtly pleading eyes to Hannah Abbot. They'd previously arranged for her to bid on him if someone he didn't want to be around appeared to be winning the bid.

As McGonagall said, "Five galleons, thirteen sickles and twelve knuts going once," Hannah piped up. "Six galleons."

"Do I hear seven gall..."

"Seven galleons," Millicent called, her gaze still trained on Pansy.

"Eight," Hannah countered.

"Ten."

"Elev..."

"Fifteen," Millicent interrupted, the smile she'd been fighting off stretched across her face.

"Eighteen," Hannah called somewhat desperately. She looked as confused as Ernie himself. Why was Millicent bidding so fiercely on him? Surely she didn't fancy him?

"Twenty," the puzzling girl said almost sweetly.

"Twenty five," Hannah exclaimed. That was the last of the money he'd given her. He hadn't thought the bidding for him would even reach that amount.

"Thirty," Millicent said.

McGonagall blinked when Hannah didn't counter-bid. "Thirty galleons going once," she began. Ernie watched Millicent lean across the Slytherin table and whisper something to Pansy but he couldn't make out was it was.

"Thirty galleons going twi..."

"Fifty galleons," Pansy snapped.

Ernie's jaw dropped. Surely he hadn't heard those words pass Pansy's lips.

"Fifty galleons going once. Twice." McGonagall banged her gavel and proclaimed somewhat dazedly, "Sold to Pansy Parkinson for fifty galleons."

Whatever else McGonagall said went completely over Ernie's head as he stumbled none too gracefully to his friends. Hannah comfortingly rubbed his back, whispering her apologies. He absently patted her knee and shook his head. There was nothing more she could have done. Besides, she and Justin had a date planned and no one could have foreseen this.

The sound of shuffling scarcely pierced Ernie's fogged brain as he tried to reconcile the predicament he was in. There just wasn't any way he could spend the entire day with Pansy Parkinson. He simply wasn't made of stern enough stuff.

"Come on, Macmillan."

His head snapped up at the sound of her voice. "I don't think so," he retorted, surprised by the cold bitterness his voice had assumed.

"I really don't have time for this," Pansy said in a bored voice.

Sheer force of will and years of proper upbringing prevented Ernie from telling Pansy to go do something very unladylike to herself. "Leave me alone, Parkinson," he spat instead.

Suddenly, her tiny hand curled around his arm and hauled him to his feet. She spun him around to face her. Ernie hadn't been this close to her since winter break and the sight of those blazing brown eyes, the pert upturned nose, those faint, kissable freckles spattered across her nose that she hated so made him feel like he was drowning and, damn it all, why had she bid for him?

"I will not leave you alone, Macmillan," she stated sharply. "I just paid fifty galleons for you and I bloody well intend to get my money's worth. So stop your whinging and come on."

Before he could mount a convincing retort, Ernie found himself being marched out of the Great Hall. Pansy had steered him to the castle entrance when Ernie regained command of himself and wrenched his arm out of Pansy's grip. "Where are you taking me?"

With a petulant stomp of her foot, Pansy huffed, "To Hogsmeade. I have to do some shopping and since I've paid for you for the day, the least you can do is help."

She reached for his arm but Ernie stepped back, shaking his head and scowling. "You didn't' have to bid. It's not like you want me," he said, ignoring the way his voice caught on the word "want." "You've made that quite clear. If you want to go to Hogsmeade, be my guest. I'm staying here." Turning on his heel, he headed for the stairs to his common room.

"You're mine for the day, Macmillan," Pansy protested.

Ernie didn't even pause. "Not my fault."

"You can't…"

"I am not going to spend Valentine's Day with someone who's in love with someone else," Ernie exclaimed.

"But…"

"There is nothing you can say to change my mind, Pansy," Ernie said, his gaze focused unerringly on her bewildered brown eyes. "I'll pay you the fifty galleons tonight at dinner. Have fun in Hogsmeade." He pulled open the door to the Hufflepuff corridor and tossed a solemn "Happy Valentine's Day" over his shoulder before disappearing through it.

* * *

This was not how her day was supposed to go. Pansy knew this because she'd had very specific plans. First, she'd have breakfast and watch her schoolmates make fools of themselves at the auction. Then she'd spend the rest of the day pampering herself in Hogsmeade.

Pansy could scarcely remember the last time she'd indulged herself. The war had wreaked havoc on her family. Everyone had survived, thank Merlin, but they'd suffered socially and financially. The Parkinsons had taken a stance of neutrality—her parents agreed with the idea of pureblood rule but thought You-Know-Who was taking entirely the wrong route toward his goals. The Ministry—whom Pansy's father thought was just as corrupt as You-Know-Who—had punished the family as if they were actual Death Eaters. The family accounts had been seized; her parents were formally charged and tried for treason; very publicly chastised for not fighting once they were found not guilty (a miracle in itself) and subsequently shunned from polite society. The Ministry had just instructed Gringotts to unfreeze the Parkinsons' funds a few weeks ago and her parents had sent her one hundred galleons—the first time she'd had more than a handful of knuts in over a year.

And she'd just spent half of it on Ernie Macmillan.

Ungrateful prat.

So he'd been one of the few people willing to associate with her when school had reopened. She appreciated that and she'd surely told him as much.

So he'd lent a sympathetic ear when she'd poured out her devastation over Draco breaking off with her.

And he'd gamely gone along with her scheme to win Draco back. Quite thoroughly, in fact. He'd lavished her with attention—something Pansy had never experienced before. Having Ernie escort her to classes, send her sweet, funny notes by owl, and generously supplying her with quills and parchments and Honeydukes' chocolate made her feel less like a pariah.

She'd rewarded his kindness. She'd been nicer to him. She'd complimented him, given him the kind of unfettered attention she'd given to Draco with the minor exception of keeping an eye out to see if Draco was noticing her "relationship" with Ernie. Everything had been going along swimmingly until right before winter break.

Until the night before everyone went home.

Until Ernie kissed her at the feast.

It was all that damned, meddlesome Millie's fault. She was the one who pointed out that Pansy and Ernie were standing under the mistletoe. She was the one to remind everyone of the kissing tradition. For her part, Pansy had been all ready to squash all notions of public kissing (they were standing in the Great Hall, for propriety's sake, and the last thing she'd wanted was for Draco to think she'd completely moved on even if he had been looking in Potter's direction at the time), but she turned toward Ernie and found herself captivated by intense, velvet brown eyes and she hadn't been able to speak. Then Ernie's fingers—broad, short, capable fingers completely unlike Draco's—slid up her arm, over her shoulder, up her neck, and into her hair, paralyzing her as effectively as a Full Body-Binding Curse.

She hadn't been able to suppress her shiver of anticipation any more than she could have kept her eyes from fluttering shut and her face from tilting up. Ernie's lips, firm and moist, had descended on hers, moving with leisurely purpose as if he had all the time in the world to savor her. It was a perfectly decorous kiss; Pansy still didn't understand why she'd gasped at the subtle, shifting pressure. Or why she'd leaned into Ernie's warm, solid body, sighing ever so softly as Ernie's tongue slid along her bottom lip. And she certainly didn't understand why she'd felt so deprived when he'd pulled back to give her a small, shy smile.

It was the smile that made her turn away. It was full of hopeful intimacy and that was the last thing she and Ernie could have between them. So she glanced over at her table, her eyes automatically seeking out Draco's sleek, blond head. Draco gave no sign of having witnessed the kiss. In fact, he gave no sign of having taken his eyes off of Harry bloody Potter.

The rather crushing realization that Draco was lost to her had seized her and Pansy had jerked out of Ernie's loose embrace and fled to the dungeons without a look or word of explanation.

She and Ernie hadn't spoken since until today.

"Have you two made up yet?"

Pansy blinked. Millicent stood beside her, an expectant look on her smug face. "What?" she asked dumbly.

"You and Macmillan," Millicent sighed. "Have you made up yet or are you still being stupid?"

"I can't believe you," Pansy fumed, her frustration with the whole ridiculous situation flaring up as she faced her instigating friend.

"I can't believe you either," Millicent retorted as she steered Pansy away from the prying eyes of their fellow classmates. Though she didn't appreciate being hustled off, Pansy did have enough presence of mind to realize she did not want to have this discussion in the middle of The Three Broomsticks.

Millicent gently shoved Pansy toward a table in a dark back corner and sat down.

"You needn't manhandle me," Pansy groused. Her flare of anger had deserted her in the face of Millie's glower. Pansy had always considered this tendency of hers an appalling weakness, but had yet to overcome it. Millie was usually right when she brought out the glower.

Millie watched Pansy as a waiter set tow warm mugs of butterbeer on the table before she spoke. "So are you going to tell me why you've been acting like a dithering idiot all year?"

"That's hardly fair, Mill," Pansy protested.

"Isn't it?" Millie arched a challenging eyebrow. "We've all changed after the war, Pans, yet you keep trying to hold on to something you can't have."

"Draco was mine first."

"Only because your parents arranged it," Millie bluntly pointed out. "The most you've ever been is good friends."

Pansy shook her head. "That's not true. We..."

"For Merlin's sake, Pans, did you _see_ the pissing match he got into with Potter? Over _Longbottom_? You may be in love with him, but he most certainly isn't in love with you."

"But..."

"Draco's gay, Pansy," Millie declared. "He's hopelessly infatuated with Potter, furiously jealous of the attention Potter gives to Longbottom and, though he may be fond of you, he is not in love with you. You are never going to be a happy, loving, married couple. It's time you accept that and move on."

Silence fell over the table as Pansy processed Millie's brutal assessment of her situation. She hated it—hated hearing the words out loud, hated the resolute but sympathetic expression Millie's face, hated the way her heart seemed to break and regenerate all in the same instance. Most of all, she hated knowing that she'd bent over backwards for something she'd known she couldn't have since the year began.

"I know," Pansy murmured, taking a sip of her butterbeer.

"So why do you keep pushing Macmillan away?"

"I didn't think you were such a Hufflepuff fan."

"I'm not," Millie said, "but Macmillan's attractive, intelligent, unusually ambitious for a Hufflepuff, and he knows how to use his power. Plus he's a pureblood."

Pansy's eyes narrowed as jealousy flared in her chest. "You've been paying him quite a lot of attention."

Millie rolled her eyes and growled. "He's mad about you, though I can hardly fathom why given your shocking display of stupidity of late."

"That's quite enough, Mill," Pansy warned.

Millie simply grinned. "Go get Macmillan, apologize for your...prolonged lack of judgment, and make up with him. You're obviously interested in him."

"I don't think he's interested in me anymore."

"I highly doubt that."

Squeezing her eyes shut, Pansy whispered, "He refused to spend the day with me. He's still at Hogwarts."

With a shake of her head, Millie reached over and patted Pansy's hand until Pansy looked at her. "Then why are you still here talking to me?"

* * *

"Macmillan!"

The muffled, echo-like cry seemed very far away. Frowning, Ernie dismissed the sound as imaginary. He was, after all, in his common room and no one in Hufflepuff would call for him so imperiously.

"I know you're down here somewhere, Macmillan!" the voice said.

Pansy.

Ernie's frown darkened, sending a pair of nervous second-years scurrying across the room. He had no clue what she could want with him. She'd made her feelings for him perfectly clear the night he kissed her. Malfoy was the one she loved and he'd been a fool to believe their relationship had evolved into something deep and mutually valued. Now he knew better, and as far as he was concerned, she could just sod off.

"I'm not leaving until you talk to me, so you may as well come out!"

Ernie flipped the page of his Arithmancy textbook.

"Don't make me sing!"

Cringing—he'd heard her sing and it truly was not to be borne—he dragged the tip of his wand across some principle he'd been trying to comprehend for the last thirty minutes. He would not be moved.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." There was a brief moment of silence before she began viciously caterwauling at the top of her lungs.

Several of his housemates gaped at the sound while several others hastily packed their belongings and fled to their dormitories. Ernie, however, gritted his teeth and highlighted another passage. He would not be moved.

"_He's supposed to be fair,  
Instead he's stubborn,  
He's supposed to care,  
Instead he's sullen..._"

Merlin, she'd added words.

"_I just want to talk,  
I want to clear the air..._"

Susan, who'd been trying not to laugh, glanced up at Ernie's pained face. "You've got to make that stop."

He shook his head. He would not be moved.

"_Yet he continues to balk,  
It seems I'm more than he can bear..._"

"Ernie," Susan whispered, pointing at the common room door.

"No," he whispered back.

"_He's trying to ignore me..._"

"Fat chance of anyone else being able to," Susan muttered with a glare at her friend.

"_You'd think by now he'd know me._"

The entire common room flinched as Pansy held on to a particularly sour note.

"_Millie says he adores me,  
All I ask is that he shows me..._"

With a determination Ernie rarely saw in her eyes, Susan lunged out of her chair, yanked Ernie from his and pushed him toward the door. "For the love of Hufflepuff, shut her up!"

"_Because it's been too long since..._"

Reluctantly, angrily, Ernie pushed open the door and stepped into the corridor. "What?"

Pansy turned toward his voice and blinked at him for a moment. "I'm sorry."

"What do you want with me," Ernie elaborated. "What could possibly be worth subjecting my entire House to the horror of your singing?"

"You needn't be rude about it."

"You're the one who said it was horrible in the first place!" Ernie crossed his arms over his chest, all of the frustration he'd been feeling since Christmas overwhelming him. "Don't you remember? It was on our second "date," the Saturday before the Halloween feast. You told me you like my humming and that you always sound like a drunken, deranged Howler whenever you attempt to be musical."

"You remember that?" she asked softly.

"Of course, I do. You felt the need to prove it."

Pansy chuckled, but Ernie was far too beside himself to see anything amusing about her behavior or their conversation.

"I never expected you to kiss me," she stated suddenly into the silence settling between them.

"What?" How dare she bring _that _up?

She shrugged as she met his gaze. "I certainly didn't expect to be so affected by it."

"You didn't?" he breathed, unprepared for this turn.

"No," she admitted, taking a tentative step toward him. "Draco never kissed me like that." She took another step. "It was usually a quick peck. I should have realized long before this year that something wasn't quite right between him and me."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you deserve to know." Pansy moved closer until she was an arm's length away from him. "I've known I was going to marry Draco since I was eight years old. It was all arranged. I was going to be the next Mrs. Malfoy and I took that seriously. I've spent the last ten years molding myself into the perfect girl for Draco. It was the one thing I had left after the war. I didn't want to lose it.

"Then we all came back here and so many people were shunning us, shunning _me _more than ever except you. And in the face of Draco's inattention, I latched on to you. I used you. I was honest about that from the start, but I still shouldn't have done it."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Ernie's lips. "Are you apologizing to me?"

Pansy drew a long breath. "I'm merely telling you how I feel about our current situation."

"I accept your apology," Ernie answered gently.

"I never..."

"I'm sorry as well."

"For what?" Pansy asked, curiosity shining in her eyes.

It was Ernie's turn to shrug. "For snapping at you earlier. For letting things get so out of hand."

"Apology accepted."

Ernie laughed. "Well, I'm glad that behind us. If you'll wait here, I'll get your fifty galleons."

"I'd rather you didn't."

Ernie stilled, not sure what to make of the intense expression on Pansy's face. The only thing he _was _sure of was the hope that whatever she had on her mind was a good thing. "Why not?"

"Because I'd rather get my money's worth."

"The day's half over."

Pansy smiled a bright, genuine smile he'd never seen from her before. "Does that mean it's too late for us to start over? Try to become friends again?"

The smile taking over his face was even bigger than hers. "Not at all."


End file.
